


Dead Roses

by bucharestbuck



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Eventual Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, flower markings, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 19:45:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13130793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bucharestbuck/pseuds/bucharestbuck
Summary: "It was the rose, dark as coal against fair skin, that stood out among the scars and a single anemone flower on Draco’s chest. The rose appeared right over Draco’s heart the moment the Dark Mark was placed on Draco’s arm."Flowers appear on people's bodies at pivotal moments in their lives.





	Dead Roses

**Author's Note:**

> I already have more chapters in the works to add to this fic later. However, it can stand alone as is. See the notes at the end for flowers and their meanings.

A cautious yet hopeful energy engulfed the returning students on their first day back at Hogwarts. The tentative reopening of the school brought many old and many new people bustling through the newly renovated castle. For all of the new people the prestigious school drew, it still wasn’t enough to fill out the large number of the student body from the previous year. And it definitely wasn’t enough students to fill the eight year Slytherin dorm.

Very few eighth year Slytherins chose to return after the final battle at Hogwarts, so, in order to give all of the returning Slytherins roommates as well as to promote inter-house unity, new room assignments were made. Each dorm was occupied by two people from different houses, much to Draco’s surprise and dismay. However, this fact paled in comparison to actually finding out who his new roommate would be. 

Draco could feel the weight of each set of eyes upon him as he made his way to his dorm. Whether or not he had been cleared during his trial, he was still Draco Malfoy, Death Eater. He tried not to fidget with the sleeves of his shirt as he found his room. Long sleeves were a necessity. It was one thing for people to know the various markings were there and it was another to see them. 

Draco’s body was littered with the flower markings all received at pivotal moments in their lives. People his age tended to have a fair few of markings. However, very few people Draco’s age had done the things he had done. So he wore long sleeves no matter the weather or the occasion. Sharing a dorm and a bathroom, however, would make the covering up of these marks difficult, and it would probably be more work than the actual schoolwork. 

Opening the door to the room, Draco found that his trunk had already been placed at the foot of one of the two beds. Another trunk sat like an elephant in the room at the foot of the bed opposite Draco’s. Since there was no chance of a Slytherin roommate, Draco hoped for maybe a nice Hufflepuff or maybe a smart Ravenclaw. Anything other than a Gryffindor. 

Draco’s contemplation of his new roommate was interrupted by the actual person themselves. Steeling himself, Draco turned toward the door where none other than Harry Potter stood. Both boys regarded one another for some time before Draco finally muttered “Potter,” sounding much more tired than he had intended. 

“Malfoy,” Harry greeted, tone unreadable, as he moved further into the room toward his trunk. 

Draco quickly reigned in his surprise and slight nervousness as he too made his way to his trunk to unpack. Draco watched Harry flit about the room out of the corner of his eye. Harry tossed things here and there, seemingly unbothered by having Draco in the room no matter how palpable the tension felt. Draco tried to put it out of his mind as he pulled all of his clothing out of his trunk and began organizing it in his wardrobe. 

Draco slowly forgot about the other presence in the room, getting lost in putting all of his things away. Tediously organizing his belongings served as an excellent distraction. It worked so well that Draco failed to notice the Harry had finished unpacking and was now watching Draco. 

Harry finally brought Draco back to reality by saying, “Quite a few long sleeves you got there, Malfoy. Expecting cold weather?”

Draco turned to size up the other boy. Harry was just as covered as he was, though a few of his marks peaked through, mainly cluttered foliage as opposed to the flowers themselves. This aside, Draco still shot back, “Not everyone can afford to flaunt their marks, Potter.”

Harry tilted his head, seeming to assess every bit of exposed skin on Draco’s body, which was very little and showed nothing. “They don’t much matter do they? Marks I mean,” Harry said. “They’re the past and you can’t change that. Besides, it’s not really other peoples business what plants beside to sprout on other peoples bodies.”

Draco was taken aback by Harry words, opening and closing his mouth several times before slamming it shut. Harry seemed to find some humor in leaving Draco speechless, a short chuckle sending blood rushing to Draco’s face. 

“Don’t think about it too hard Malfoy,” Harry said, turning away from Draco. He was almost out the door before he turned back over his shoulder and offered, “I’m going to dinner if you want to come.”

Draco stared at the other boy, trying to find the hidden joke in his words. Even though he found nothing suspicious, Draco curtly declined, saying something about finishing unpacking. Really he just wanted to shower and go to sleep. This day had left Draco’s head spinning and his body tense. 

After Harry had left, Draco gathered his things and headed into the bathroom. He placed all of his soaps and shampoos in the shower and left the towel within reach before striping quickly. The warm stream of water loosened Draco’s tense muscles as he stood under the light spray. After a few moments of stillness and contemplation, Draco quickly washed his hair and body, and then exited the shower. 

Draco didn’t think it had been too long since the other boy had left to get dinner, so Draco had no problem walking out into the room with only a towel slung lowly over his hips, rivulets of water still running down his chest and neck. Draco made his way to his wardrobe to look for some pajamas to throw on. Before he could even pull the first drawer open, the door to the room creaked to announce the entry of Harry Potter. 

Draco tensed, bare back to the door. It wasn’t the fact that the only thing preserving Draco’s modesty was a towel that bothered him. It was that now the last person on earth Draco wanted to see his marks would see a vary large selection of them. 

Harry could see the purple hyacinth that litter Draco’s body. Sorrow was a defining characteristic of any persons life, and Draco had had a fair few moments of sorrow, his body visually expressing that. When Draco finally turned to face the other boy, Harry could see the amaryllis that decorated Draco’s rib cage as a reminder of pride he no longer felt. 

Each member of the Malfoy family had an amaryllis. It was almost a rite of passage to display family pride on ones body. Even so, there were still those few who never grew amaryllis on their bodies, never felt a pride or a sense of beauty in a family of Death Eaters and dark magic. The amaryllis is one of many flowers Draco wish could be burned from his skin. 

It was the rose, dark as coal against fair skin, that stood out among the scars and a single anemone flower on Draco’s chest. The rose appeared right over Draco’s heart the moment the Dark Mark was placed on Draco’s arm. 

Draco’s body almost shook with tension and a sick feeling from having Harry Potter stare at what felt like a gaping wound on his chest. When the other boy started moving toward Draco, he closed his eyes preparing himself for a harsh words or violence. What Draco was not prepared for was to feel a gentle touch on his skin over the dark rose. 

The air left Draco’s lungs when he opened his eyes and saw Harry lightly running his fingers over the mark, seemingly entranced. For a long moment, they stood together, Draco barely breathing and Harry with his hands on the other boy’s chest. 

“I understand why you feel like you have to hide these,” Harry whispered softly. Slowly he pulled his hand from Draco’s chest and grabbed the hem of his shirt. Harry lifted his shirt to reveal a similar black rose nestled among other bright flowers on his rib cage. “When I finally came to after Voldemort killed me, all of the other pain I felt was blurred out by the burning of this mark on my ribs.”

The black rose was the most painful mark to grow because it was the most difficult to earn. Coupled with the pain of receiving the Dark Mark, Draco had nearly fallen to his knees when the burning began. Relatives that surrounded him clapped and celebrated while Draco’s heart burned in his chest and his arm throbbed. 

It was too much being sent back into these memories and seeing his former enemy touch him so gently and understand. Feeling the ghost of a burning sensation on his skin and nausea, Draco ran from the room and into the bathroom. Slamming the door shut and back against the cold wood, Draco slid down the rough door and collapsed on the floor. Tears Draco hadn’t cried in some time stung his eyes, harsh sobs ripping themselves from his throat. 

On the other side of the door, Harry stood dumbfounded. Unable to process what was happening quick enough, Harry was unable to catch the other boy and stop from locking himself away. Harry made his way toward the bathroom, the sound of the other’s sobs slipping under the door. Turning the door handle and finding no give, Harry knocked softly against the door.

“Draco, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause any of this,” Harry began. “Please open the door.”

It went on like this, Harry pleading with the other boy through the door, Draco pulling at his hair and biting his lip to muffle his cries, for some time before Draco calmed himself enough he felt like opening the door. 

When the bathroom door finally opened, Harry was met with a red eyed, tear streaked Draco. Still in only a towel, Draco brushed past Harry and once again made his way to his wardrobe. Harry realized the Draco needed this barrier, so he turned his back and allowed the other boy to dress. Once Harry heard the springs of a mattress protesting under Draco’s slight weight, he turned around. 

Draco had pulled on a long sleeve shirt and long pants, and was not under the covers of his bed pulled up to his chin. Harry slowly walked over to Draco’s bed and sat on the edge. 

“I’m sorry,” Harry tried again.

“Don’t,” Draco hissed, rubbing at his eye with his hand.

“But we need to talk about this, about everything,” Harry replied.

With a heavy sigh Draco threw back the cover on the unoccupied corner of his bed in an invitation. “We should talk,” Draco agreed, “But not right now. I’m utterly exhausted.”

Harry was once again taken aback by the others action, but before he could overthink it, Harry was sliding between the sheets next to Draco. After a few odd moments, Harry lightly placed his arm around Draco’s waist and asked, “Is this okay?”

“Shut up Harry,” Draco muttered already half asleep as he nuzzled closer.

**Author's Note:**

> Purple Hyacinth - sorrow  
> Amaryllis - pride and beauty  
> Black Rose - death  
> Anemone - fading hope, forsaken 
> 
> My tumblr is @bucharestbuck.


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